


31 Minutes (Day 3: Fuse)

by ifyouwereamelody



Series: The Worlds Through Which We Weave (Zutara Week 2020) [3]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Firefighters, F/M, Wow I really wasn't expecting there to be a ready-made firefighter AU tag, Zutara Week, Zutara Week 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:40:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25619026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifyouwereamelody/pseuds/ifyouwereamelody
Summary: It's quite astounding, really, how quickly she's learned to translate him. They've spent a grand total of zero time together outside of training, and he's hardly big on chat so she knows next to nothing about his life.But she knows him, probably better than she knows anyone at the moment – with every tap of his fingers, every crook of his lips, every turn in his voice, he just...He makes sense to her. It's weird.
Relationships: Katara & Zuko (Avatar), Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: The Worlds Through Which We Weave (Zutara Week 2020) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1853797
Comments: 30
Kudos: 109





	31 Minutes (Day 3: Fuse)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, lovelies! Hope everyone's enjoying Zutara week. Between working and writing I've not really had any chance to check things out myself, and I am so, so excited for all the content that'll be waiting for me when I'm done next week. What a thing to look forward to!
> 
> Honestly, I'm weirdly nervous about posting this one. I bashed it out from start to finish in just over a day, and I genuinely just poured so much energy into it that it totally feels like my baby now. I think it might be my favourite in this series, but then that's just me.
> 
> I actually didn't really find a song that felt right for this until I was about halfway through writing it, and then completely by chance We Were Made For This by Train came onto my shuffle, and even though it's not directly applicable to the story, it just kind of felt right to me?
> 
> TW: Implied character death. Mention of injury/blood. Fire. More swearing. What's the point in later when you love someone? Fuck Jet!

_(31)_

'Okay, water on, line one, over.'

'Water on, line one, received. That's line one water, now on, over.'

Katara stands, braced and expectant, in front of the blaze.

There's something about this feeling that always gets her. It's in the slow seconds it takes for water to rush up the hose, when she holds herself firm before the twisting, taunting tongues of fire that wrap themselves around someone's home and she's caught in a final moment of helplessness – a humbled breath at the mercy of the furnace, before the power to fight back erupts from her hands.

_Here I am. You want to rage? Rage. I've come to end you._

Which is probably more than a little self-aggrandising, a hair past hubristic, but she figures that anyone who signs up to face down the flames must have a little of that in them. And at least she's self-aware about it.

Zuko stands behind her, one palm locked steady against her shoulder as the line firms up in her hands. She directs an arm forwards, indicating the archway across the room that connects the sitting area to the kitchen –

'The kitchen, it must have started there, I must've left one of the burners on from dinner. The smoke detector went off and I came downstairs and the fire was already in the hall. Please, _please_ , my daughter, her room is down in the basement, the basement conversion and she- Oh _God_ , the stairs up from her room come right out by the kitchen door, _please_ , she's still in there-'

– and he taps twice on her back in response. They advance forwards a couple of steps, moving together through the smoke that's started to fill the sitting room, through the swathes of fire that are branching their way across the carpeted floor, and sink again into position. Secure in her stance, Katara pulls back on the flow lever, and releases a jet of water towards the archway.

_(30)_

There's a moment of abatement, where the flames that flicker around the kitchen's entrance seem to die out a little, but within seconds they come roaring back, unperturbed. Katara frowns, the seal of her mask pulling against her forehead at the movement, and tries again – aim, shoot, watch... _Damn_.

Another tap on her back, and Zuko's arm moves past her to wave back and forth in the air before them. She raises a hand in acknowledgement, then opens the nozzle up to its fog setting, letting loose a wide spray of water that sweeps through the opening between rooms. It clears the spread a little, dousing the area directly around them, but beyond that the entryway keeps burning, the smoke growing thicker now as the blaze intensifies.

Katara shakes her head, jerking a hand backwards over her shoulder, and Zuko's grip on her tightens as he guides her back and out into the hallway where Suki and Aang are standing ready.

_(28)_

'No good, Lieutenant. It's not taking.'

Zuko's voice comes in clear over the radio built into Katara's mask, and she chimes in alongside him.

'We're not getting any traction, it's spreading faster than we can control it. And no sign of any occupants so far.'

Suki nods.

'Okay, what are you thinking?'

'I think we need to be more aggressive, go for a full offensive attack,' Katara asserts. 'We need to get right in past the doorway to find the source in the kitchen, otherwise we're just going to keep getting re-flashes and we'll never be able to reach the basement room.'

'Hm, the sitting room's pretty caught. You feel you can span it safely?'

Zuko's hand finds its way to her shoulder again, a quick squeeze of support.

'The fog's cleared some of the spread. I reckon we can manage. Katara's right – we can't put this thing out without sourcing it.'

'Hey, does anyone else feel like it's pretty hot in here for a kitchen fire?'

Aang's not wrong. Katara's noticed it too – it's become a habit of hers that she keeps her earflaps folded up a little, just to give her a better sense of the kind of beast they're facing, and this one's _angry_. More so than she'd expect from a case of a caught burner ring. This fire should be quailing, running off into a corner to hide, not bellowing back at them.

But then, that's why they need to figure out exactly where it's coming from.

'If it's okay with you, Lieutenant, I really think we need to advance.'

Suki considers for a second, and then lifts a hand in endorsement.

'Okay. Tokugawa, Nutaraq, you're staying as two-in. Tsarong and I will be here as your two-out.'

'Copy that. Teo, can we get some foam on this line, over?'

There's a brief pause before Katara gets a response from their team outside.

'Foam on, received. That's line one foam, now on, over.'

Looking to Zuko, Katara raises a fist.

'Ready?'

'Ready.' He bumps her knuckles with his own. 'You staying on point?'

'You know it.'

It's difficult to see through the masks and the smoke, but she can hear the smile in his voice.

'Pipe hog.'

_(27)_

They form up again, his hand solid on her back once more, and then with a wave of her hand, a tap of his fingers, they're advancing into the living space. A wide spray of foam allows them passage through the room, but the entrance to the kitchen has only gone up more since they retreated. Katara tightens the line's nozzle, directing a targeted jet along the base of the doorway which sticks long enough that they're able to press forwards a little further.

As they reach the small vestibule between the rooms, she can see through to the kitchen and, on a glance to her right, make out a set of stairs which can only lead down to the basement. With the change in perspective, a sudden stream of observations comes flooding into her head.

_Fuck, it's spread downstairs._

_No sign of the girl._

_It really is hot in here._

_But actually_

_The kitchen doesn't look that bad_

_It's just the vestibule_

_It's just..._

It hits her a fraction of a second too late. She turns, trying to pull Zuko around with her as she retreats –

_Get out. Get out get out get out now_

– but they only make it halfway across the sitting room before the house gives a deep, pained groan, and the floor falls away beneath their feet.

( _26_ )

Hitting the ground knocks all the breath out of her, but that feels like the least of her problems. The heat is staggering, blistering; she's set to liquefy, her skin dissolving instantly to sweat beneath her gear, and everywhere is fire.

 _Breathe_.

But with her first winded draw, something harsh and choking catches in the back of her throat; all at once, she can't seem to stop coughing, and the world is orange and black and searing and she barely knows which way is up and oh _fuck_ don't try to move that arm, something is very, very wrong with that.

Her head is spinning, cloudy with the smoke that she shouldn't be breathing in, and as she feels hands grab at her shoulders, hauling her sideways, she has the strangest sense of being somewhere else.

'Katara! Get up, we've got to move. Come on, Nutaraq, I'll fucking drag you if I need to, just

hold on

tight, these pipes are no joke once the pressure's on.'

Suki stands before them all in the concourse, a series of hoses laid out before her as she instructs the new trainees. She's still a sergeant, three stars and one stripe on her badge rather than the one star, two stripes she'll get when she becomes a lieutenant.

Katara can't listen closely enough to what their teacher is saying, buzzing with excitement for their first skills session.

'We call this "charging the line" – filling the hose with water once it's more or less in position, ready for use. It's much harder to manoeuvre after it's charged, so you always want to make sure that you've got it as well-placed as you can before you call for water on. Now, I'm going to divide you up into pairs, and each of you will take turns being on point and then supporting your partner.'

Suki moves slowly along the row of trainees, making her way towards Katara as she pairs different people off with each other.

'Nutaraq, is it?'

'Yes, Sergeant.'

'Let's see how you do with Tokugawa.'

And she waves over a dark-haired man from the end of the row. Katara noticed him at the pre-training seminars a couple of days ago – he's hard to miss with that scar – but for the most part he seems to have kept to himself. She's not really sure what he's about yet.

'The point/support position is as my colleagues are demonstrating. Point, you're aiming to control the pipe as best you can, be prepared for some kick-back. Support, you're there to help your point stay stable and to provide help if two-person control is required. Understood?'

There's a general muttering of confirmation along the row.

In position, Katara feels her assigned partner lay his hand firm against her shoulder blade, fingertips folding over towards her collarbone. His voice comes soft from behind her.

'Got it?'

_Oh, please._

'Yeah, I've got it. You sure you've got me?'

She says it more as a joke than anything, a tongue-in-cheek counter that's accompanied by a jerk of the shoulder that he's holding.

But then his fingers tap against her once, twice, in a way that she interprets as

_I've got you_

and... hell, she can't fault that.

'Okay, now those of you on point, aim your nozzle straight ahead, brace for pressure, and pull back slowly on the lever.'

It's so much more than she's expecting. So much more powerful, so much harder to keep hold of, and after what feels like mere seconds she finds herself struggling for control.

'Supp- Ah, fu- Support!'

And she feels a press against her back, holding her steady, the line stabilising as a hand comes forward from behind her to anchor it to her side. Pushing forward on the lever, Katara shuts off the jet and lays the pipe down on the ground.

'Damn it.'

Suki's watching, calling over to her from a few yards away.

'What's wrong?'

'Nothing, I just-... I couldn't hold it.'

The sergeant moves in closer to where they're standing, her face kind and knowing.

'And you think that means you failed. Listen, most trainees don't hold well the first time. It's hard, that's why we train it. But you communicated to your partner that you needed help, and he gave it to you, and together you controlled the situation. I care about that much more than whether or not you can hold a pipe down by yourself.'

Katara glances back at her partner, taking in the concentration on his face, before turning quickly back to Suki as the sergeant continues.

'This job is more about teamwork than anything else – the technical skills come with practice, but if you can keep a good, solid partnership going in the face of all the stresses of the job...'

Suki smiles, shrugs.

'That's something you can't teach. You did good, you two.'

She leaves them with a nod, walking off down the row to assess the other trainees, and Katara can't help but glow a little at the sergeant's praise. It doesn't go unnoticed.

'You're gloating.'

She tilts her chin up and smiles sideways at him.

'So what if I am? She said we did good.'

'Yep.'

As quiet as he is, he looks pretty pleased too.

'I'm getting the feeling that she's going to be pairing us up again after this. What do you think?'

'Maybe.'

'You're not much of a talker, are you?'

Aptly – and deliberately, she's sure, or else why is he smiling like that? – all he does is shrug. She laughs, holding a hand out towards him.

'I'm Katara.'

'Zuko.'

'Well, it's nice to meet you, Zuko.'

A half hour later, and they're done with hose drills.

'Alright, everybody, time for a tour of the firehouse – main entrance is round this side, in here we've got the mess, then there's the

bathroom in the corner,

come on, we've gotta get behind a door!'

She feels dazed, too disorientated by the smoke and the heat and the shocking, sickening pain in her arm to be able to help Zuko as he threads a harness over her shoulders and around behind her neck, pulling her across the floor to whatever shelter it is that he thinks he's found.

_(24)_

Her throat is still burning, her chest racked by raw, grating coughs. She can see it now – the smoke that's crept into her mask – and as she's pulled off carpet and onto tile she has the presence of mind to scrabble with the seal, yanking the compromised gear from her face. It's not much of a reprieve, but the air is definitely less smoky here and she manages to suck in some breath that doesn't feel like it's coating her lungs.

'You okay?'

She can't speak yet, but she gives what she hopes is a vaguely reassuring nod even as a couple more coughs claw their way up her throat.

'Fuck, you're bleeding. Wait a second. Okay, here, take this. One hand there, good, now I'm going to lift you here...'

Zuko places a wet cloth in her unhurt hand, guiding it up to cover her mouth and nose, and then she feels him turning her this way and that, unzipping her coat and working her right arm out of its sleeve. He lays her back flat, and brings a second, larger pad of fabric down over what she can only assume is an open fracture. The pressure makes her groan, but he secures the dressing firmly with a length of cord from the harness and then rests her arm back down by her side.

After a few seconds, breathing clearer now through the cloth against her face, Katara's head stops spinning enough that she can take in their surroundings.

She's lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling. They're holed up in what must be an ensuite, dark aside from the light of Zuko's torch; a rolled up towel has been stuffed against the crack underneath the door in an attempt to keep the smoke out, but she can still see an ominous haze swirling in the torch's beam. Zuko is sitting against the wall beside her, muttering quick-fire details about their position.

'-must have originated down here and spread up to the kitchen. Guess they never had smoke alarms fitted in the conversion. Lots of rollover, the ceiling's completely gone. No sign of any occupants. Katara and I are in an adjoining bathroom, two doors between rooms – first one's burned through, second's intact but it's warping, difficult to keep the smoke out. Katara's got an open fracture of her right arm and her mask is compromised. We can trade off on mine but I'm sure we'd appreciate extraction asap if you can manage it, over.'

'Working on it.' Haru's voice sounds tinnily from the radio of her discarded mask. 'The collapse has intensified things up here, but we've got three lines on and Cap's on the way with another two engines. Suki's prepping to head back inside any minute, over.'

'Copy that. Over and out.'

With the end of the interchange, Zuko slumps briefly against the wall, then tilts his head down to eye Katara.

'Looking good, Nutaraq.'

'Yeah, never felt better.'

Her words are muffled through the cloth, but he must hear her well enough because he lets out a short scoff of laughter as he peers around at their hide-out.

'Not quite how I expected this to go.'

She sours at his words, huffs slightly.

'I'm such an idiot. I didn't notice any of the signs.'

'Neither of us did.'

'But still, I was the one who said we should advance. If I hadn't-'

'Hey, woah, what are you doing?'

Because she's just tried to sit up and it's sent the room swirling around her, the torchlight blurring into a nauseating streak of white against the dark.

'Fuck, Nutaraq, will you just stay

down

to the pier after shift today, if you wanna come?'

She looks up from her work to find Haru standing in front of her, can of soda in hand as he watches her expectantly.

'The pier?'

'Yeah, it's meant to be nice down there – you know, a few bars, some street food. A few of us were thinking that we've been working pretty hard with training the last few weeks and it'd be nice to get out and actually see some of the city. What do you reckon?'

'Oh, sure, that sounds like fun.'

She glances down at the revision notes she's working on, then back at up at Haru with a grimace.

'I might be a bit late. I really need to get this done before the end of the week.'

'No worries, come join us at any time.'

He throws her a wide grin, heading off in the direction of the mess. For a moment, Katara tries to goes back to her book –

_When exposed to intense heat, some materials will melt or fuse together and become joined_

– but then she lets out a resigned sigh and turns to the corner where Zuko is sitting, addressing him crabbily.

'What?'

He cocks a brow.

'Nothing.'

'That is not a _nothing_ kind of face. What is it?'

The corner of his mouth lifts, and he glances pointedly from her to the mess door and back again.

'He's into you.'

It takes her a second to absorb it, and then she bursts into something that feels halfway between a laugh and a balk.

'What, _Haru_? That's completely ridiculous.'

Zuko says nothing, his face twitching in amusement as he watches her.

'He's not!'

A shrug of his shoulders, and Katara groans in frustration.

'It's a _group_ thing. A work night out, not a- It's not like he was asking me on a date or anything.'

'Didn't ask me.'

'Yeah, well, you've been sitting off in a corner doing your whole "talking causes me physical pain" thing. He probably didn't even realise you were here.'

Another shrug. She rolls her eyes, fighting a smile, and looks back down at her book.

It's quite astounding, really, how quickly she's learned to translate him. Over the last few weeks, Suki's paired them together more and more, and they've slipped quite seamlessly into an easy partnership that seems to be unmatched by any of the other trainees.

She's not sure if she likes him, exactly. They've spent a grand total of zero time together outside of training, and he's hardly big on chat so she knows next to nothing about his life. But she knows _him_ , probably better than she knows anyone at the moment – every tap of his fingers, every crook of his lips, every turn in his voice just... He makes sense to her. It's weird.

'Well, either way, it's not as if it matters. I don't date people I work with.'

Even his silence seems to change in timbre depending on the situation. She frowns, lifting her head to look over at him again.

'What now?'

'Nothing.'

'Okay, seriously,

stop saying that,

I don't care how much you complain, you're putting the damned mask on.'

The cloth is tugged away from her and Zuko's face comes into view, intent as he draws the straps of his mask up and over the back of her head, pulling them tight so that the seal comes flush against her skin. He clears his throat forcefully as the smoke starts to snag at him, twisting towards the sink to wet the cloth again and clamping it over his mouth and nose.

'Zuko, you can't-'

'Well, I have.' The tone in his voice is final, unaccepting of any debate on the matter. 'Thirty one minutes of air in a standard tank. Checked yours and the tubing's fucked, that canister's bled out. We went in about ten minutes ago, so-'

He checks the gauge on the side of his tank, swears softly.

~~( _21_ )~~

_(14)_

'Fuck. Been breathing hard, using more air. Looks like less than

fifteen minutes left

that's fifteen minutes until closing, folks! Last orders at the bar now.'

It's Friday night, and the bar is packed. It's a miracle that they managed to find a table big enough for all of them to squeeze around it, but Katara isn't about to question their luck. She stands, laying a hand on Jet's back as she looks down at him.

'Another round? On me.'

He smirks at her appraisingly, eyes dark in the low light.

'If it's going then I'll take another beer.' Suddenly, she's pulled down towards him and then his breath is in her ear. 'I think I'd rather be on you myself, though.'

She just about chokes, spluttering out a laugh and shoving him away playfully as she throws a quick glance around the table to make sure no one overheard.

'Jet!' Her voice comes as a scandalised whisper. 'These are my colleagues, I _work_ with these people.'

His arm comes up to wrap around her back, perilously close to her bum as he draws her back into him.

'Hey, they're your friends, right? And you're off the clock, relax. They like me, it's going well. And it's not my fault you look so good in those jeans.'

Katara rolls her eyes, laughing again as she pulls his hands off her and steps away from the table, her face burning. Turning to find Zuko, she catches his gaze flickering away from her, back towards the debate that Haru and Teo are having about some video game they've been playing at the station.

'Hey, Tokugawa. One more for the road?'

He considers for a second, then shrugs.

'Sure.'

He hasn't looked back at her, and she feels her forehead fold into a frown. Settling back on one hip, she crosses her arms over her chest and flips her hair over her shoulder, raising her voice in mock contemplation.

'But how am I meant to know what to get you?'

'Ooh, this is cool.' Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Teo nudge Jet. 'It's so cool when they do this. Weird, but- Just watch.'

Zuko cocks his head in her direction, watching her sideways through narrowed eyes, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he waits for her assessment.

'Okay. You've already had three beers, so you're not gonna be in the mood for sake. Difficult to hear from here but I'm pretty sure you're not humming which means you can't be that drunk and _that_ means yuzushu is out. When's the last time your uncle visited? About a month ago, right? So not oolong hai.'

He's looking at her properly now, and she points a decisive finger in his direction.

'Whisky, neat. Hakushu single?'

His mouth quirks. Katara grins at him, turning away from the table to a scattering of applause and chuckles from the rest of the group.

'Whisky it is. Coming right up.'

When she gets back to the table, the conversation is still on her party trick. In a sense, anyway.

'Yeah, they've been like that ever since we started training. Some full-on mind-reader shit, that is,' Haru opines cheerfully.

Jet takes the beer from her with a nod of thanks, but his face is pinched, lip curled as he listens to the others go on about how easily she and Zuko work together.

After closing, when they're walking back along the high street towards Jet's flat, his voice is tight.

'Well, that was very informative. I

wasn't expecting

that much blood loss, but it's still going, almost soaked through the towel. Can't find a pulse in your wrist. Katara, we need to get that realigned.'

He's talking about her arm. She can feel the stickiness of the towel against her skin, gets a sense of the abnormal angle of the break where her arm rests against the floor, but the pain isn't quite so bad anymore; it's retreated somewhere to the back of her mind, a dull throb that stays quite politely discreet so long as she doesn't try to move it.

But realignment...

'Well, that's gonna hurt like fuck. This is shaping up to be a really good day.'

Zuko snorts behind the wash cloth, then shifts around so that he's sitting at her right side, about level with her knees.

'Wait.' Katara lifts her good arm to tug at the straps of her – _his_ – mask. 'Take this back.'

'No-'

'You'll be exerting yourself, it makes sense for you to have it right now-'

'Because having your limb re-set doesn't count as exertion?'

'I'd much rather you did it with both hands, thanks. You can't do this and hold that cloth over your face at the same time, and the smoke's starting to get thicker in here, and just take the fucking mask, okay?'

He scowls at her, re-soaking the wash cloth before holding his hand out mulishly for the mask. There really is more smoke in here now, the door between them and the fire warping more in its frame with every passing minute. And she can't help but notice that the heat is growing more and more intense, too – her hair is drenched with sweat, her gear slick with it. The fire's working its way in, and it won't be kept out for much longer, she's sure.

She winces as Zuko lifts her arm, one hand at her wrist, the other at her elbow. He's slipped his boot off somewhere along the line, and his heel presses into her armpit for counter-traction.

'You ready?'

_(11)_

'Not even a bit, but I'm not sure that's a luxury I'm getting, here.'

'Fair point. Okay. One, two,

three

in the morning, I'm so sorry. I'm so embarrassed. I just-' Katara hiccoughs. 'I just really needed to talk to someone and before I knew it I'd dialled your number and-'

'Katara, it's okay. Really. Are you alright?'

Seemingly from nowhere, Zuko produces a wad of tissue, handing it to her as he studies her face.

'Yeah.' God, her eyes won't stop leaking. 'Jet's an asshole.'

A scoff.

She looks up at him, scowling.

'Okay, fine, you knew that already. _Everyone_ knew it already, I get it. And you know, I'm not even crying because I'm sad that it's over or because I miss him or anything like that. I'm crying because _I_ knew he was an asshole as well. The whole time, I _knew_ it, and I _still_ wasted a year on him, and I'm a complete fucking idiot.'

'You're not. Jet, on the other hand... Massive idiot. Total dick.'

Maybe it's the look of intense pseudo-seriousness on his face, maybe it's the ease with which he tosses out the insults... She's not sure. But for whatever reason, she finds laughter welling up in her stomach.

'Ha, yeah. Yeah, you know what, fuck Jet!'

'Or rather, don't fuck Jet.'

And at that, the laugh bursts free – a real, snorting, belly-laugh that turns heads from the few people who are still milling around on the pier. With it, she feels the tight knot that she's been carrying around all night start to loosen, and she dabs at her eyes again as the last dregs of hilarity trickle out of her.

'Fucking hell, Zuko.'

His face is lit up in a smile, and he chuckles softly as he hauls himself up off the kerb and onto his feet.

'Come on. I'll walk you home.'

Getting up is a challenge – she can't exactly remember how many drinks she's had tonight, but she's quite sure that it was a _lot_ – and Zuko reaches out to steady her. As they walk, he keeps his hand on her shoulder, as if he doesn't quite trust her to keep her balance on her own, which is... Well, probably reasonable. And not unpleasant.

'He hated you, you know.'

She really doesn't mean to say it. There's no point to her having said it. What's she hoping to achieve?

 _Oh, man, don't go there_.

Except she's pretty sure she's already there, has been there for some time now, and the warmth of his hand on her shoulder is definitely not helping.

'I noticed.'

'Really hated you. Hated how well we get along, you know, how well we understand each other. I told him that it's important for the job, that it helps us stay safe, but he wasn't having any of it. He was always convinced that there was more to it than that.'

'Well. That's stupid.'

'Yeah... Yeah, it is.'

She's quiet for a few paces, not faltering in her stride along the road. But

_but_

now there's something quaking in her chest because she _knows_. She knows what's in him, what makes him – every tap of his fingers, every crook of his lips, every turn in his voice – and she knows that he doesn't really think it's stupid at all so she _has_ to say it, she _has_ to-

'But what if it's not? Stupid. What if it's... not?'

He stalls, frozen in place for a moment, and then he turns to her and there's a muscle jumping in his jaw.

'Stop. You're drunk.'

His hand is still on her shoulder.

'Not that drunk. I mean, I _am_ , but that doesn't mean I don't know what I'm saying. It doesn't mean that I don't-... Ugh.'

She cuts off, fists clenching in frustration at not being able to find the words that she wants. Because they need to be the _right_ words; so much of how they communicate is instinctive, word _less_ , but she wants him to know that this, right now, this is deliberate.

Zuko stares down at her. She can _see_ his mind working, that crease appearing between his eyebrows that always appears between his eyebrows when he's trying to figure something out.

And suddenly the desire to touch him there hits her like a freight train.

She wants to smooth over the lines of his forehead, run her finger down the slant of his nose, trace the outline of his lips. She wants to know what face he'd make, what _sound_ he'd make if she wound her fingers into his hair, if she kissed his neck, if she-

'Katara, I don't think this is the moment.'

That's a tone she's never heard from him before, low and dusky, and she finds a clean page for it in the Library of Him that exists in her mind, and she labels it _want_.

Her own words come out rough as well, as if testing his voice on her tongue.

'I just feel-'

His hand slips up from her shoulder into the hair at the nape of her neck, his thumb running gently over the angle of her jaw.

'Yeah, I get it, I-... I mean, it's-... Me too.' He breaths in and out, slow and controlled, and pulls his hand away. 'But I'd like it if you were more sober and less on the rebound for this, so maybe we could talk about it again later.'

'Later. Yeah, that sounds like a good plan.'

They stand, eyes locked, for a few seconds longer, and then simultaneously turn to continue down the road. After a moment, Katara lets out a self-conscious laugh and nudges him with her elbow.

'I still can't believe you came out here at three in the morning. I am

so sorry,

it's over now, it's done, I'm so sorry Katara, you're okay, it's over.'

She must have been screaming, because there's fabric clenched between her teeth and her throat is burning again. Zuko is breathing hard, his hands shaking as he eases the cloth from her mouth and re-fits the mask to her face, collapsing back to lie on the floor once he's done.

_(9)_

They're almost top-to-toe, and the air above them is thick with smoke now, and-

'The towel's on fire. Towel under the door. It's nearly here.'

His voice is hoarse and slurring, and he slips into a bout of coughing that's almost sluggish in the listlessness that seems to have drifted over him. Even with the mask holding the smoke at bay, Katara can feel her own eyes drooping closed and she fights to stay awake. But every time she blinks them back open, the world seems to have gotten that bit impossibly hotter, the flames that bit creepingly brighter.

'You ever think some things are inevitable?'

The words come to her as if from a great way away, floating down on specks of ash to land about her ears. Her lips are weak, but she forces them to work.

'Bit on the nose to be talking about inevitability right now. We're clearly dying. Doesn't get much more inevitable than this.'

'I'm not talking about that. Talking about you and me. It was always going to be us, wasn't it?'

'Oh, Zuko. Of course it was.'

'Wish I could go back thirty six hours. _Later_ is no good. I shouldn't have said anything about _later_ , I should've just kissed you. Fuck, I should've kissed you. I should've told you that I love you because I do love you and what's the point in _later_ , really, when you love someone?'

She has no moisture left in her. This she's sure of. Sure, because if she did then she'd be crying, both at his words and what they mean, what they represent.

'Smoke inhalation. You're rambling.'

'And you're too much. Too good. Breath-taking. Kind of like all this.' He waves a hand vaguely at the molten air around them. 'But, you know, nicer. You can have my breath if you want it. Not that I've got a whole lot left right now.'

'Nutaraq, Tokugawa, do you copy?'

Suki's voice in her ear.

'Copy, Lieutenant.'

'How are things with you two?'

'Lots of smoke. Door's on fire.'

Katara reckons it's a fairly accurate summary of their position. She manages to twist around enough to see the tank gauge.

~~( _6_ )~~

( _2_ )

'Air's almost out. Run down too fast. And Tokugawa's doing a lot of talking now. Not looking good, Lieutenant.'

'Well, tell him it's about time he started getting chatty. Nutaraq-... Katara, we're fully involved up here. No internal access anymore, we've had to pull back to a defensive operation outside. I- I'm sorry.'

'Figured as much. Don't worry about it. My idea to go in.'

There's nothing left to be said.

She lifts her head, just a fraction, and pulls the mask off. No point in wearing it anymore. Besides, she wants him to be able to see her face, to hear her clearly without a visor getting in the way. And no one else needs to listen in on this. It's just them now.

Her vision is swimming so hard that she can barely focus, but she just about manages to fix her gaze on Zuko. He's watching her, his head lying limp against the burning tiles.

'I love you too, you know.'

The corner of his mouth lifts. His eyes shine a little brighter in the light of the blaze.

'I know.'

'I wish- I wish I hadn't brought you down with me.'

'You kidding, Katara? No one I'd rather die with.'

'No. Me neither.'

Her lungs don't have the air left in them to say anything else, and her tongue is barbed and arid, but she finds the will in her to reach out towards him. His hand slides across the tile towards her, and their fingers are millimetres apart, so close that they'll be touching if she can just reach that. bit. further.

The ground is cracking. The sky is ablaze. The flames are at the door. And she reaches for him.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me why I keep writing stuff that hurts me. Because I honestly don't know.
> 
> I've got a couple of PSAs that go with this fic:
> 
> First off, fire safety is important. I had about fifteen tabs open whilst I was writing this about different aspects of firefighting, and in the end I had to stretch things out a bit timing-wise just to be able to build their time in the fire more effectively, because in real life that shit spreads so fucking fast. Make sure you have your smoke detectors fitted and functional, make sure you have easily accessible exits, make sure you're clear on the things to do if you were ever to encounter a fire in your home/workplace/elsewhere.
> 
> Secondly, please never try to re-set a fracture in the field unless you're trained and it's wholly necessary. Firefighters are given varying amounts of medical training depending on where in the world they work, and even someone with all the know-how would generally avoid realignment of a displaced fracture in the field unless there was a pressing reason for it (in this case because Katara's fracture was causing neurovascular compromise). It's far, far safer and less painful to treat these injuries in a proper medical centre. Don't try this at home, kids.
> 
> Love to all, and please let me know what you think!


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